Category: Memoir

A Happy Success

Last week I had the privilege of speaking with a double class of sixth graders and their two teachers. I told the story of how this came about in the previous blog; now I can tell what it was like.

Before I started talking about writing nonfiction and the importance of revision, I encouraged them to interrupt with questions at any point. They frequently did, asking to see my books, asking if I made money writing them, asking where I got my ideas. You could power a city with their energy!

When I asked why they wrote, the first answer was, “for fun”—my heart sang. When I asked about purposes for writing, they were able to list many. They also understood the importance of audience, agreeing that a letter to a grandparent would describe their weekend differently from one to a buddy. And when I asked about artificial intelligence and both its impact on and role in writing, their sophistication blew me away. Students referenced the unreliability and poor quality of AI writing, though they acknowledged using it.

I talked about my own writing journey, from being in a junior high writing group and seeing my poems—bad though I now know they were—in print to the writing of my most recent book, my first work of fiction. I encouraged them to read widely because it was fun and would make them better writers. Many nodded at that, and some even described their favorite books and series. Others complained that they hadn’t found books of interest, and I encouraged them to use librarians as resources, assuring them that once they found the right books, they would want to read them. I told the story of my scientist husband’s journey from near-illiterate writer to accomplished memoirist, thanks in good part to the support a writing group. They were responsive and engaged; I found their gusto inspiring.

Then they formed small groups to revise the AI-drafted poorly written paragraph I’d sent. They could read it on the whiteboard, and all of them had it on their Chromebooks. Despite the occasional grumbling about group work, their groups did rewrite the paragraph. Some just reworded it without reducing the wordiness, but some did a really good job. If I were to do this again, I would emphasize finding the main idea and amplifying it without extras, and I would explain the difference between revising and editing better.

After our debriefing, students began to pack up. One brought me a part of her story to read, several surprised me by asking for autographs, and one gave me the picture that you see here as a gift. They really made me feel validated. I hope they found it to be a good learning experience. I know I learned from them.

When I research the state of education for my blogs, the doom and gloom can be daunting. This experience gave me far more hope than the research implies. Two committed teachers working together with a large group of learners, coping with some chaos to produce enthusiastic and effective results—that’s what schools should be like.   

I’m so glad I had this chance… but I confess that I no longer have the stamina more teaching would require. I came home and took a nap! So thank you, students and teachers, for inviting me, and keep on writing!

A Tribute and an Answer

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My last blog explored why teachers continue to teach despite the challenges and frustrations that too often confront them. A recent loss reminded me of the answer to “why teach?”.

I grew up in part of a New York suburb with a K-8 grade school, Quaker Ridge, though the rest of the community had elementary schools and a shared junior high. I didn’t realize until much later in life how special that experience was, how tight the bonds we formed had been. When I went back to my high school’s 50th reunion, we also held a Quaker Ridge reunion, the highlight of the reunion weekend for me. I loved reconnecting with childhood friends, but some of the magic happened because a teacher beloved by all of us joined us. Nat Sloan was our seventh and eighth grade science teacher, and his passion for both us and for his subject mattered to all of us.

Nat had a particular impact on me because he required us to choose a book from his amply stocked bookshelf, read it, and report back to the class. In seventh grade I chose Patterns of Culture by Ruth Benedict. A well-respected anthropologist, Benedict explained her belief in cultural relativism, which emphasizes understanding behaviors within their cultural contexts rather than through the lens of one’s own cultural biases. She then went on to demonstrate her approach through an in-depth examination of three disparate cultures. Spellbound, I recognized that going steady and girls’ wearing a boys’ ID bracelet were patterns from my culture, not universal patterns. She opened my eyes to a world wider than I’d considered and drove my desire to travel to other cultures and to study anthropology in college.

Nat gave me a different lens to explore the world, and that mattered. It’s no surprise that he was one of two teachers we invited to our wedding. His presence, along with Garnet Almes, an amazing math teacher, mattered. They were the two teachers who did the most to shape my own commitment to teaching, and I was honored to stay connected with both of them. We visited Ms. Almes in Florida before she died, and I maintained email correspondence with Nat after the reunion. He had become a sculptor and we are glass artists, so we had a lot to write about and pictures to share!            

So what does this self-indulgent trip down memory lane have to do with why we teach? My classmate, who is now the mayor of our hometown, emailed us when Nat died last month after reaching 100. The outpouring of love and memories from all of us created a beautiful tribute to the man and his impact on his students. And we were only one class out of many years of classes, no doubt similarly affected by him.

Nat Sloan mattered. Good teaching matters. He and other really impactful teachers live on in the memories of the students they taught. How could anyone ask for a richer life than that?